


When Christmas Comes This Time Each Year

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Series: Hallmark Holidays [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Back to Phoenix Pass, Black santa hats and red sequin uggs, Christmas dreams, Desserts, I bet Frank Iero owns that belt buckle, M/M, Merry Little Peterick 2018, SO MUCH FLUFF, The Granny Clique rides again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: Another visit to Phoenix Pass; nervous Patrick, Sweet Pete, a pair of sparkling Uggs and a mistletoe belt buckle.  MERRY CHRISTMAS.  Written for Have Yourself Some Merry Little Peterick 2018





	When Christmas Comes This Time Each Year

**Author's Note:**

> This fic... it was supposed to be a lot of things but the great internet shortage of Christmas 2018 decided to mess with that. I had a blast writing this, even though I cried. I hope you all enjoy it and don't forget to check out all of the other amazing entries; I am humbled to be surrounded by such creativity. Much thanks and love to the creators for their hard work and especially SnitchesAndTalkers and Das_Verlorene_Kind for their support and handholding, and my beloved Omega Twin Laudanum_Cafe for being perfect and supportive, I wouldn't have done it without you all. 
> 
> Grab some cocoa and cookies, and settle in for another Christmas at The Phoenix. 
> 
> Title from 'Sickly Sweet Holidays" by Dallon Weekes

Patrick was struck with a familiar and almost comforting sense of deja vu as he pulled off the highway, the change over from smooth asphalt to the rutted and uneven county road that leads to Phoenix Pass. The anticipation that welled up was almost overwhelming until The Phoenix came into view past the heavy snowfall that blanketed the world outside his SUV. 

“Dad, DAD! Pete decorated just like he promised, LOOK!” Wiley was yelling from the back seat, the now six-year-old utterly in awe of the innkeeper since the first day they had met. Patrick laughed as he pulled into one of the parking spots in front of the inn, the same one he had crashed into two years ago if his hazy memory served him, and he could properly see the glimmer of lights on the columns that lined the porch. They were, as had been promised, striped with lights to resemble candy canes, matching the ones on the shirt that Wiley had absolutely insisted on. Throwing the car into park, Patrick heard the click of Wiley’s seatbelt before the keys were turned and he tutted, shaking his head. 

“Wiles, you know you need to wait next time, okay?” Patrick tried to be firm on this but in reality, he was a bit of a hypocrite; his seatbelt had been unbuckled as soon as they had turned onto the main road. 

“Sorry, Dad.” Wiley did not sound sorry; actually, she sounded exactly like her mother, a fact which never ceased to surprise Patrick, in all of the best ways. “The car is off, can I go see Pete and Remy now, PLEASE?” If Patrick hadn’t known better, he would have thought it had been years since Wiley had seen both her best friend and his father as opposed to the not even two months since their Halloween visit. He couldn’t of course, fault her for an instant, not any more than he could say no. 

“Go ahead. Make sure you knock!” The last words were hollared after Wiley as she jumped out of the car, leaving her door open of course, and dashed through the snow up the stairs; her ridiculous red boots twinkled against the snow as she ran and, once again, Patrick knew that he was a sucker for that child, but he was okay with it. He could just barely see the door opening from where he sat and shook himself out of his momentary stupor, slipping out of the car and jogging behind his daughter into the warm foyer of the inn where Pete and Remy waited. There were more important things than suitcases and garment bags, he mused absently while wiping his glasses on the bottom of his striped sweater: much more important things. 

Mother nature, it would seem, had a wry sense of humor and if Patrick were a betting man or a believer in any sense, he could have sworn that Sara’s handiwork was all over the storm that was raging outside, an uncanny replica of the one that had trapped them here for the first time two years ago. This time, however, was very, very different. As opposed to an empty inn, every room was booked and people, both old friends and anew, milled around the immaculately decorated first floor, all dressed in their Christmas finest, whatever that may be. Elsie and her clique were holding over the dessert table with matching sequin-bedecked sweaters in varying shades of ruby, gold, and emerald while Frank and Gerard wore head to toe black, the only concession to the holiday on Gee’s part being a red rose and greenery bedecked boutonniere on his jacket lapel. Frank, however, had somehow unearthed a mistletoe belt buckle because of course, he had. Wiley and Remy were dashing about between the crowd in peals of laughter, decked out to the nines in black and cranberry; matching both he and Pete. It wasn’t formal, not really although from everything Patrick had heard, getting Pete into an actual suit was a miracle on par with immaculate conception so that was a bit of a win. Everything was kind of perfect. 

The papers in Patrick’s pocket seemed to weigh far more than they ever possibly should, and he could have sworn they were radiating heat through the think jacket lining and his shirt and vest beneath, It was, of course, impossible and he knew it. 

They were just papers, a sheaf stapled in the upper left-hand corner and tri-folded to fit easily into his hidden jacket pocket. Then again, it wasn’t really the papers, was it? It was what they represent; what they said. That was something else entirely. 

Patrick wasn't a nervous man; he had played in front of sold-out arenas and theatres filled with celebrities without so much as a second thought. He had met his heroes, and braved potty training a headstrong toddler; he could do anything. So why the hell was his stomach flipping like that? It was just paper. And hell is just a sauna. He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes as he felt a warm, small hand on his shoulder. 

“Patrick, are you okay?” Grace’s voice was soft and kind, her smile sweet and so similar to Sara’s that it took him by surprise. 

“I’m fine, just a little nervous I guess? I don’t know why I just am. I mean this is-”

“Sorry, sorry! I promise I didn’t mean to run late but if we wanted to not freeze the furnace needed some TLC.” Pete’s feet were loud as he came banging down the stairs, skidding to a stop beside Patrick and adjusting his vest and the boutonniere in his buttonhole, leaning down to whisper in Patrick’s ear with a rakish grin. “Didn’t want you thinking I had cold feet.” 

Patrick laughed at that, he couldn’t help it, and his nervousness seemed to vanish as he faced Pete, straightening his tie with a laugh. “Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz the third, there is not a single part of you that is cold, much less your feet. Besides, this was your idea, you don’t get to back out now. I think if you tried to leave now, Elise would beat you inti submission with a pie server.” The words ended on a quiet laugh, and Pete beamed, all white teeth and shining amber eyes. He was kind of perfectly imperfect in every way and Patrick was, not for the first time, struck dumb at how they had ended up here. 

“Patrick you-”

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let's get this show on the road. Pete, Patrick, if you would?” Gerard, his messy red hair now topped by a black Santa hat, stood in front of the tree in the front room, the lights glittering behind him.   
“You sure about this? Are you really ready?” Patrick spoke softly, the words for Pete’s ears only. 

“I have never been more ready for anything in my life. Let’s go.” Grasping Patrick’s hand in his, Pete navigated the crowd to stand in front of Gerard, twining their fingers together tightly as Remy and Wiley skidded to a stop beside them. 

“Okay, that seems to be everybody. Well then, let’s go. There are cake and eggnog waiting. Welcome, family, friends and loved ones. We gather here today to celebrate the wedding of Pete and Patrick. You have come here to share in this formal commitment they make to one another, to offer your love and support to this union, and to allow Pete and Patrick to start their married life together surrounded by the people dearest and most important to them.  
So welcome to one and all, who have traveled from near and far. Pete and Patrick thank you for your presence here today and now ask for your blessing, encouragement, and lifelong support, for their decision to be married.” Gerard spoke easily, with a smile in his voice, glancing easily between the two men before him, the kids that flanked them and the familiar faces in the small crowd. “Marriage is perhaps the greatest and most challenging adventure of human relationships. No ceremony can create your marriage; only you can do that—through love and patience; through dedication and perseverance; through talking and listening, helping and supporting and believing in each other; through tenderness and laughter; through learning to forgive, learning to appreciate your differences, and by learning to make the important things matter, and to let go of the rest. What this ceremony can do is to witness and affirm the choice you make to stand together as lifemates and partners.” Glancing very pointedly at Pete, Gerard smiled. “ Will, you, Peter, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

 

“You bet your ass I will.” Pete’s voice broke even as there was a titter of laughter rippling through the room; it was ridiculous and entirely Pete. 

“I expected nothing less, Pete. Now will you, Patrick, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

 

“I will.” Patrick’s voice shook just a bit and Pete squeezed his hand, his smile blinding. 

“I thought as much. The rings?” Wiley and Remy jumped to action, each handing their father a small black box, proud as can be as Gee grinned at them. “Thanks, guys. Wedding rings are an unbroken circle of love, signifying to all the union of this couple in marriage. Pete, if you would?” 

 

Pete swallowed thickly, cracking open the tiny box and carefully sliding the simple ring onto Patrick’s finger, his eyes glistening with tears. “This ring is my sacred gift, with my promise that I will always love you, cherish you and honor you all the days of my life. And with this ring, I thee wed.”

 

Gerard just nodded, smiling softly. “Thanks, Pete. Now Patrick?”

Patrick’s hands shook, just a little as he spoke, his voice quiet and his gaze locked on Pete as he slipped the ring into place. “This ring is my sacred gift, with my promise that I will always love you, cherish you and honor you all the days of my life. And with this ring, I thee wed.”

There were sniffles echoing in the quiet of the foyer, but no one spoke. “Well then, by the power vested in me by the depths of the internet, I now pronounce you married. Kiss your damn husband already.” Pete and Patrick complied, their lips meeting in a sweet, chaste kiss as the room erupted into applause save for the twin ‘ewwws’ from the two kids.

Pulling away with a smile that was for Patrick and Patrick alone, Pete beamed, grasping his husband's hand and turning so they both faced their friends and family. “Well holy fuck. Have some cheesecake, guys. We love you.” 

Patrick nodded, his cheeks aching from his smile, and wrapped his free arm around Wiley as she threw her arms around his waist. The gathered crowd faded away as he glanced at Pete, mirroring his position with Remy and he felt like everything was, for the first time in a long time, absolutely perfect. 

Hours later, with silver moonlight shining through the blinds of the small bedroom in Pete’s little cottage, Patrick’s chest heaved as he collapsed back against the sheets of Pete’s bed, entwined with his husband, who buried his face against his neck. 

“I fucking love you, Trick. For fucking ever. You're stuck with me now, you know that right? No trade-ins.” Pete’s voice was muffled into Patrick’s shoulder and he chuckled, mussing the dark hair beneath his fingers. 

“You don’t ever have to worry about that, I promise. You are it for me.” Patrick’s voice was earnest if slightly fucked-out and he could feel Pete’s smile. It took him a few moments of post-orgasmic bliss before Patrick remembered the envelope that had caused him so much distress. “Hey Pete, can you get my jacket?” It was a simple request and even made sense in some weird way, at least to Patrick. 

“I’m not keeping you warm enough? Do I need to turn up the heat?” There was genuine concern in Pete’s voice as he slipped from bed to retrieve the requested item, golden skin gleaming in the moonlight before flopping back down beside his husband. 

Patrick rolled his eyes and scoffed, pressing his lips against Pete’s for just a moment before fishing in the jacket pocket. “Asshole. You know you keep me plenty warm. I just… here.” Words failed Patrick as he thrust the envelope into Pete’s hands. Pete, for his part, opened it eagerly, his brow furrowing as he unfolded the thin sheaf and read over it, squinting in the dim light. “This is… Patrick I- what is this? I mean, I know what it is but. Really?” There was a note of disbelief in Pete’s voice and Patrick pushed himself upright and nodded. 

“It’s, I mean… Elsie is moving in with Gladys and Ruth and her daughter to open that cafe, and her house was on the market. It’s right next door and I just thought… I hate LA, and you are here and being apart is just such an oof-” The words were cut off suddenly, as Pete met his lips in a heated kiss, pulling Patrick as close as possible. 

“You sold your house. And bought a new one. And you’re leaving LA. For me. For us. For real?” There was awe in his voice that Patrick had never imagined possible from Pete, a sweet earnestness that he treasured, and he just nodded, his chest full to bursting with love. 

“Best Christmas fucking ever. I love you, Patrick, and I am so glad I decided to keep you.” A sloppy wet kiss was pressed to his cheek and Patrick laughed as he was pulled down to tangle in the sheets once again. 

“I love you too Pete, now sleep.” Surprisingly enough, Pete complied, curling against Patrick and sighing as the snow fell outside. Best Christmas ever, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me at Allkindsofplatinumandpercocet on Tumblr for cookies and fangirling!


End file.
